


Protect and Survive

by Untherius



Category: Brave (2012), Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine getaway brings Merida face to face with someone she did not expect, and much further from home than she'd ever dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protect and Survive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PagingPaige](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagingPaige/gifts).



Merida of Dunbroch drew a deep breath and held it. She waited until she couldn't stand it any longer, then willed herself to hold it another three heartbeats before slowly exhaling.

Her mother had been right...again. Discipline really was the most important skill she'd ever learned. Mother had also been right about how much of a monumental pain in the arse it was being Queen. And she also had to admit that certain things would have been much easier had she ever married. She thanked the powers that be that her brother Hamish was still around to assume some of the responsibilities that would otherwise have fallen to a husband.

She looked out from the rocky crag on which she stood, the one place in all Dunbroch she could still go to be truly alone. A storm was brewing, of both the literal and figurative kind and she didn't know which which would be worse.

The bloody Anglish were still a thorn in her side, even after the stinging defeat they'd suffered so many years before. It was widely whispered that it was only a matter of time before one of its kings would again set his sights on Scotland. Merida hoped the rest of the clans could be united under a single High King...or Queen...before that happened.

But there was something else, something that pricked at the back of her mind like an irate wasp. Whenever she tried to identify it, any notion of it slipped from her grasp. She knew it was vitally important and for that reason it vexed her at least as much as did the Anglish.

She did one of the best things she knew to calm herself: she sang, a haunting melody about the Land of the Ever Young.

Gàir nan tonn gur trom an nuallan  
Seirm am chluais do ghlòir  
Dàn nam beann gach allt is fuaran  
Siaradh nuas le'd cheol  
'S tù gach làtha gun tàmh mo bhuaireadh  
D'iargain bhuan gam leòn  
'S tù gach oidhche chaoich mo bhruadar  
Gu Thìr Nan Òg

The sky above continued to darken. A flash of lightning split the clouds, a reminder to Merida that she really should retreat. High ground was no place to be during a thunderstorm. Her brother Hubert had learned that the hard way, a mistake that had nearly cost him his life and had left him with what he still called “some interesting-looking burn scars.” She'd also lost track of the number of repairs made to Castle Dunbroch from lightning strikes alone and she'd long ago decided that whoever had originally built the thing out of limestone should have been shot.

She turned and deftly descended several paces, then stopped. Something was coming. She could feel it. Instinctively, she pulled an arrow and put it to her bowstring, drawing it partway. She crouched slightly, relaxing her senses, passively scanning her environment for whatever it was that stalked her.

The wind abruptly picked up, threatening to blow her off the mountain. More lightning split the sky. Forks of it lit up what was left of the day, piercing the clouds, thunder pealing after it. She winced slightly.

The dark clouds overhead began to rotate. They moved slowly at first, then faster and faster. Then its center began to descent toward her. More lightning flashed inside it, lighting it up in all the colors of the rainbow.

Suddenly, a prismatic column of light violently struck the mountain, accompanied by a loud, shrieking CRACK! It quickly cleared, revealing the form of a large man.

Without thinking, Merida drew and released. Almost before her arrow had left the string, she reached for another, nocking it and drawing halfway.

The man in front of her deflected the arrow almost effortlessly.

Merida blinked. Her opponent—and certainly no other sort would call on her in such a manner—was even taller and broader than her father had been. Each of the man's muscular arms was nearly as big around as Merida's waist. Sturdy armor covered his vulnerable spots, from the polished steel shoulders, strange articulated torso armor, studded leather vambraces, down to the sturdy leather boots. A polished steel helm rested on his head from which peeked bright yellow hair and piercing blue eyes. He held casually in his hand a massive war-hammer.

“Who are you?” Merida demanded.

The man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. “I see that your wordfame, which has been spoken often in the feast halls, around the bardic fires, and upon the fields of honor, has been somewhat understated, O Merida, Queen of Dunbroch.” His voice was just as deep.

Merida's eyes narrowed and she drew a little more. Not that she expected her second shot to be any more effective than the first had been. Still, she meant business and she wanted the man to know it.

“I do not believe that is the answer to the question I asked,” she said.

“A storm is brewing,” said the man.

Merida glanced at the sky, then allowed one eyebrow to cock slightly. “That much is obvious,” she said. “Your purpose, let alone how you came to be here, is much less clear. And, of course, there's still the outstanding matter of your name. I prefer to get to the point. Or would you prefer to stand here until one or the both of us is struck by lightning?”

The man tipped his head back and laughed. “You impress me, Merida of Dunbroch,” he said. “I am Thor. And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

Merida let her eyebrow cock a little more. “And just what 'glorious purpose' would that be?”

“The kind for which you, over all others in Midgard, are best suited.”

“I don't suppose you would be so kind as to...be a little more specific? Otherwise, I can hardly be expected to acquiesce. It would be irresponsible of me.”

She was used to the usual tedious diplomatic nonsense she routinely endured during visits to and by other Scottish royals, the Irish, particularly the Anglish, and to somewhat less frequent extent the Danes, Germans, and Norwegians. Yet Thor seemed to be getting to the point while still being circuitous about it. It was quite strange...and vexing.

“You will lead the armies of Midgard,” said Thor.

“Will I, now?”

“Yes.”

Merida waited for some clarification. None seemed forthcoming. She sighed. She was beginning to see that her encounter with Thor was not a typical diplomatic situation. “Very well. WHY will I lead the armies of Midgard?”

“Because I, in conference with Odin, and by the recommendation of those who champion your wordfame, have decreed that it shall be so.”

“ _You_ have decided?”

Merida resented having decisions made for her. She always had. That had come to a head late in her teenage years when her mother had decided, and with much finality, that she should take a husband. It had been partly tradition and she understood that. Still, it had been the final straw in a long string of expectations her mother—mainly her mother—had forced upon her. She'd later come to accept the fact that there were just some things about life in general, and about being Princess and later Queen in particular, that were required of her. She wouldn't always get to do just the things she wanted and that was that.

Thor nodded.

“As Queen of Dunbroch, I am bound by oath and duty to at least consider your request. If I'm to go to war, it will affect my people deeply. That is not something I am at liberty to take lightly.”

“That is so,” said Thor. “Then I will give you three days' time to make your decision.” Thor turned, looked up to the sky, and said, “Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”

The dark clouds spun as before, the multicolored light flashing within it. Also as before, a cone of cloud descended to the mountain top. Another flash emanated from within. When the cloud had dissipated, Thor was gone. The storm above her continued to break rapidly until it had become little more than a few wisps of cloud.

Merida sighed heavily and placed her arrow back with the others. Grumbling, she turned and trudged pensively back to the castle.

* * *

Merida strolled across the main courtyard of Castle Dunbroch. It had been a strange morning, what with that equally strange visit from Thor. From the way he'd talked, not to mention the strange manner of his arrival and departure, she'd have sworn he'd been _the_ Thor, the one from Norse Mythology. Which was ridiculous. Wasn't it? What did it all mean anyway? She had a bad feeling about it, whatever it was. In such times, she often turned to song.

From the north came a warrior  
Bearing burdens dark and deep  
I've a will and I've a wanting  
And miles to go before I sleep  
I have horses in my stable  
I have sons fit to fight  
I will bring this to your table  
If you'll ride with me this night

“Gee,” said a low baritone from behind her, “that's certainly cheery.”

Merida turned to face her brother Hamish. She shrugged. He was one of the few people around whom she could really be herself. She'd heard it said that it was lonely at the top and she'd found that to be true. For that reason, she valued her brother's presence even more.

“Well...it's been an odd day so far.”

“Oh?”

Merida proceeded to tell him what had happened that morning out on the mountain.

Hamish rubbed his jaw pensively. “I see,” he said at length. “That _is_ odd.”

Merida exhaled. “Why is it I feel like I'm having an odd life?”

Hamish shrugged.

The wind suddenly picked up. It rose from the usual Highland breeze to near-gale force in moments. Dark clouds began to form overhead. Everyone looked up.

“Expecting more company?” asked Hamish over the wind.

Before Merida could respond, a cone of dark cloud descended, the multicolored light flashing inside it as before. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the storm dissipated, leaving two people standing in front of Merida.  


Merida's jaw dropped. She looked from one figure to the other. That...that was not possible! Was it?  


“D...Dad? M...Mum?”

“In the flesh, lass!” said Fergus.

Merida took several steps forward, then stopped. She could barely believe her eyes.

“You look good, lass.” Fergus glanced at Hamish. “And you've grown, boy. What on earth are they feeding ya?”

Hamish laughed, then hugged his parents. Merdia did the same.

“You...you look good, Dad. _Very_ good!” said Merida. She didn't have to exaggerate. Her father looked about like how he did in the paintings of the family done when Merida had been a girl. Gone was any sign of grey hair. Gone was his mead-belly. He was still built like a bear.

Fergus chuckled and punched his own rock-hard abs. “Ye wouldn't believe what a good fight does for a man's figure.”

Merida raised an eyebrow. “A good fight?”

Fergus just laughed.

Merida looked past him. “And Mum! You're...so young!” Her mother could almost have passed for Merida's sister. Her dark brown hair had regained its former healthy sheen. Her skin was nice and smooth, her muscle-tone visibly tight through the close-fitting clothing that was definitely not something Merida would ever have envisioned her wearing.

Elinor tittered.

“Erm...why the armor?” Merida gestured at the fine-woven eight-in-one chain-maille and the gleaming breast plate she wore over it.

Elinor tittered slightly. “You didn't think they'd let your father out of Valhalla without an escort, do you?”

“V...Valhalla? You can't be serious.”

Elinor gestured at herself. “Have you ever seen a woman dress like this here on Midgard?”

Merida pressed her fingertips to her forehead and groaned.

Fergus put his large hands on Merida's shoulders. They felt so warm. “Merida, honey, I did not have time to tell you how proud I am of you. I...well, there wasn't time for much. You understand that, don't you?”  


Merida nodded. “I remember you saying you were proud of me and then declaring me Queen.”  


Fergus smiled. “Your mother was good enough to let me stay around long enough to watch you kick the Anglish arse. You were glorious! You'd make a fine Valkyr some day, lass. Just...not too soon, mind you.”  


Merida glanced at her mother.  


“Well,” said Elinor with a shrug, “he's my husband. I couldn't bring myself to simply collect him. Besides, I wanted to see my daughter in action, too. Odin was a little annoyed, but we had enough good things to say about you. It seems that few things impress Odin and Thor like battle prowess.”

Merida cocked an eyebrow. “The, erm, wordfame, I take it?”

“Exactly so.”

“I see,” said Merida dubiously.

“Is...Harris...?” Hamish asked.

“Yes, yes,” said Fergus. “Ah, that lad can drink Loki under the table!”

Elinor snorted. “That's not hard. Even I can do that.”

Merdia gaped at her mother. “What?” said Elinor. “Loki might be dangerous, but he certainly can't hold his liquor.”

“So,” said Merida, “this Thor who talked to me this morning...he's _the/i > Thor?”_

“He doesn't waste time, does he?”

“Apparently not.”

“What did he say?” asked Fergus.

Elinor opened her mouth, but Merida spoke first. “He wants me to lead the armies of Midgard.”

Fergus laughed heartily. “That's my girl!”

Elinor cleared her throat.

“What?” said Fergus to Elinor.

“You know very well what, Fergus dear.”

“But Thor has asked Merida... _our_ Merida...to lead the armies of Midgard!”

Merida exhaled heavily. “Look. I have it up to my eyebrows with political nonsense the rest of the time. _Please_ don't make me endure it with my own family. So stop beating 'round the bush already! Now, I'm very glad to see you both. Don't get me wrong. But why are you here, why am I being asked to lead the armies of Midgard, and why is that so important?”

Elinor sighed. “I don't think you know just how much wordfame you have in Valhalla. Your father seldom spares breath in praise of your deeds or your character. The Aesir tend to take notice of that sort of thing and closely watch those sorts. Which means if Thor risked crossing the Bifrost himself, then it means the Aesir all concur with the substance of that wordfame.”

Merida cocked an eyebrow. “That still doesn't answer my questions.”

Elinor sighed again. “Fortunately, I've been granted permission to tarry here for a couple of days. We have...much to discuss.”

Merida felt her face light up in a smile. “Really?!” she gushed, completely losing whatever was left of her regal composure.

Fergus and Elinor both chuckled. Fergus placed an arm around his daughter. “Ah, Merida,” said Fergus, as they strolled toward the Great Hall, “you might not like hearin' it, but to me you'll always be my little girl. An' just now you sounded like the wee lass I remember.” He laughed.

Merida rolled her eyes. Parents, she thought, can't live with 'em, can't live with 'em.

* * *

Merida of Dunbroch gazed into the night sky, a sky slowly giving way to the first hints of a coming dawn. “They're beautiful, aren't they?” she said wistfully. “The stars, I mean. I don't think I'll ever just look at them anymore.”

“I doubt you'll ever look at anything the same way ever again,” said Elinor.

Merida chuckled ruefully. “No, probably not.” She turned to look at her mother, then shook her head slowly and chuckled again. “Mum...I always knew you were brilliant. Even when we disagreed. Which was often. But I never knew you actually...glowed.”

It was true. Elinor glowed slightly with a faint amber light. She giggled. “Oh, you should see me when I'm at work.”

Fergus chuckled. “Aye, lass! 'Tis a glorious thing to behold, sure an' 'tis!”

Merida stepped forward and caught her parents in a big hug. Which was no mean task, given her mother's armor and her father's girth. “I love you!” After a moment, she looked up. “I don't know if you realize just how much it's meant to me, seeing you two again. I mean, I always figured I would, just...not like this.”

“You're about to see a whole lot more,” said Elinor.

“Oh?”

Elinor smiled. “Surely you didn't think this would be it, did you?” Merida furrowed her brow, but her mother continued, her mouth quirked into a smile. “You have a meeting.” She nodded to Fergus.

He turned around and strode to the edge of the stone platform. “Hamish, me lad!” he bellowed. After a moment, he continued. “Your sister is going to be indisposed for a time. You're in charge until she returns.”

The younger man's reply floated up from a bardic fire below. “Right! No problem, Dad!”

“Ah, he's a good lad.”

“He's still as ornery as ever,” said Merida.

“He wouldn't be my son otherwise,” said Fergus.

Merida chuckled. “I suppose not.”

Elinor took both Fergus and Merida by the hand. “Try not to be alarmed, Merida dear. This is going to be...interesting.”

“Er...how interesting?”

Elinor smiled in the dark, then tipped her head upward. “Heimdall!” she called. “Open the Bifrost!”

“What...?” began Merida.

Before she could say more, a shaft of multicolored light surrounded her. Her body suddenly lurched upward. She felt like she was flying. The ground below her fell away so quickly, it was just a blur of grey against darker grey against black. The earth fell away like water over a cataract. The sky around her went quickly from light blue to progressively darker blue before dissolving into a perfect black peppered with pinpricks of stars so numerous she knew she could never possibly live long enough to count them all.

She looked down, but quickly regretted it. She barely had time to identify the general location of Scotland before the blue-green ball she knew to be Earth shrank below her. It quickly receded into the distance, the sun dropping away to her right, itself quickly shrinking until it was no more than another of the stars that peppered the black.

Merida couldn't be sure, but she thought they had picked up speed. Soon, she was proven right. Stars and swaths of dust that reminded her of the band of the Milky Way hurtled past her faster than anything she'd ever imagined. Her stomach dropped toward her belly button, nearly making her dizzy.

After what could have been minutes, but not more than an hour, she and her parents came to a stop. She stood there, blinking, her breathing rapid. She turned to her parents. “Oh, we simply _must_ do that again!” she laughed.

Fergus let out a great belly laugh and her mother tittered. It did Merida's heart good to hear them behave so much as they had in life. She paused to enjoy the moment, then looked about her.

She stood in a round room. No, it was more of a ball, its walls like burnished bronze, overlapping disks and Norse decoration adorning the interior. An imposing man stood at the center. He held a long-sword and a great cow horn hung at his belt.

“Where are we?” Merida asked.

“Welcome to Asgard!” said Fergus.

Merida cocked her eyebrow at her father. “You...you weren't joking about that?”

“Merida, dear,” said Elinor, “surely you couldn't mistake that little jaunt we just took for an hallucination, could you?”

Merida considered that for a few moments.

Elinor took her daughter's shoulders gently. “The Universe is far more vast than we Midgarders have ever imagined. As I said, your world has just become so much larger than you thought. Now...” She turned around. “...this is Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost.”

Merida curtsied slightly. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Heimdall,” she said courteously. She might have been out of her element, but she was still Queen of Dunbroch. And she was going to treat her visit as a diplomatic mission. Which, as far as she knew, was exactly that.

Heimdall nodded, looking Merida in the eyes. “The Allfather awaits.”

Merida resisted the urge to blink. Things seemed to be growing stranger by the minute. “I look forward to it,” she said cordially.

“Follow me,” said Elinor. She strode toward Heimdall, saluting him with a strange arm-across-the-chest gesture. He returned it. Then Elinor led the way through a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

What met Merida's gaze made her jaw drop. A bridge several of her arm-spans wide stretched off toward a city as far as the distance from Castle Dunbroch proper to the battlefield where she'd gained victory against England. The bridge seemed made of crystal. It pulsed with light in all the colors of the rainbow, shifting and moving constantly. She could feel through the thin leather soles of her shoes the raw power flowing through it. At regular intervals, supports flanked it on both sides, adorned with Norse knotwork and made of something that could have been rock, glass, or ceramic, she wasn't sure. It was beautiful!

She knelt down, all but forgetting the regal bearing she knew she should maintain, and pressed her palm to the bridge. The surface was smooth as crystal, yet not slippery. It felt at once hot as fire and cold as ice. Her eye slipped back and forth from one ray of the light pulsing within it to another, from the surface, deep down inside it, and back up again.

The city in the distance, though, was even more breathtaking. From where she knelt, spires of bronze rose up beyond what looked like a wall.

“Merida?” said Elinor.

Merida looked up. Her mother nodded to three horses that stood nearby. They were beautiful, as large as her Angus had been, yet sleek and muscular like the Anglish destriers she'd seen. Their healthy coats shone brightly and cleanly. They had no attendants, no hobbling, and neither saddle nor tack. Merida was immediately glad she'd learned to ride without reins.

Elinor and Fergus strode over and each leaped effortlessly onto their own horses. Merida felt a grin spread across her face. She bounced to her feet, trotted over to the remaining animal. She raised a hand and stroked its silky mane.

“Let's not keep Odin waiting, shall we?” said Elinor.

Merida looked sharply at her mother. “Odin?” she said dubiously.

Elinor giggled. “Everything your father and I have told you is true. Surely you've realized that by now.” She motioned to Merida's horse.

Merida crouched slightly, then sprang. She swung one leg back, using momentum to slide up onto the horse's back before sitting erect. She grinned and patted its neck.

“After you,” said Elinor.

Merida looked to the city, then nudged the horse's ribs with her heels. The animal took off at a dead sprint so abrupt, Merida nearly fell off. She heard her parents laughing behind her above the hoofbeats of their mounts.  


The three of them sped across the shimmering span toward the city. The bridge supports raced past her, though she wanted to slow down the look at them more closely. She made a mental note to ask about that later.  


At length, they came to a gate. Its great doors could have been wooden, could have been bronze, as though both had been woven together into a single material. It opened before them as they approached, apparently all by themselves. Then they were through.

* * *

Merida Queen of Dunbroch stood on a balcony overlooking the city. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She'd been to large cities before, of course. London, Madrid, Paris, Berlin, Moscow. Even if she were to take all of their collective grandeur, and none of their squalor, and put it all into a single city, that city would have paled in comparison.

The buildings themselves were taller than any she'd ever seen. She strongly suspected they could have been built even taller, but deliberately weren't. Some of the nearest ones were easily four times the height of the Tower of London. The building over her own head was taller still, a mountain unto itself, larger possibly than what she'd heard of the pyramids of Egypt.

They seemed covered with burnished bronze, or quite possibly gold or even some other metal as yet unknown on Midgard...Earth. From what she'd seen inside the Royal Palace, they may have been built with the same material. A few of the structures hung in mid-air, pieces of them orbiting one another by some mystical force.

The coastal plain on which the city was built butted up against forest-clad mountains that rose sharply to snow-covered peaks. Further away, the mountains dove into fjords. The sea seemed to flow outward until it poured over a precipice and into some unseen abyss. Beyond that, hundreds of thousands upon hundreds of thousands more stars were strewn across the sky in great swaths of white, pink, and blue.

Merida exhaled heavily. She glanced at the sun setting over the mountains to what she guessed was west. But she was on another world, another of the Nine Realms, one in which, as near as she could tell, the natural laws behaved differently.

That sun told her it had been a very long day. Events had blurred past her. Meetings, conferences, tests, feats of strength, feasts, drinking, airing of grievances, and a strange metal pole decorated with Norse runes and knotwork beasties. There'd been so much of so much, her hair literally hurt—not just their roots, but the hairs themselves. Which should have been impossible, but there it was.

She placed her hands on the railing, her spacious lent quarters behind her, then opened her mouth and sang.

The red-hot sun burns up the hill  
The winter's bride, the summer's king  
I tramp these acres and I feel, once upon a time  
Then it seemed that everything  
You saw and touched and felt was real  
You turned the tap and you turned the wheel  
Breathing free  
Once in a lifetime you live and love  
Once in a lifetime you die  
Once in a moment the sun goes down  
Protect and survive....

**Author's Note:**

> Tir Nan Og (with English translation): www.celticlyricscorner.net/murray/tir.htm  
> As sung by Anna Murray: www.youtube.com/watch?v=29JjS6a1RHk
> 
> From the North (performed by Runrig): www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RdkyTf1fO0
> 
> Protect and Survive (performed by Runrig): www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-EBXxdni7U


End file.
